


motion picture

by monsoons



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Drive-In movie theatre, M/M, Mentions of Zombie Movie Violence, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:41:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26071318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monsoons/pseuds/monsoons
Summary: The world could end right now and it wouldn’t matter. Not when Donghyuck is looking at him with half-lidded eyes, not when his hands feel like a furnace as they rove over Renjun’s back, and certainly not when he wraps his legs around Renjun’s waist and gasps out, “I think you can do better than this.”
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Donghyuck | Haechan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 161





	motion picture

Nostalgia is a weird thing, at least for Renjun. He finds that it sneaks up on him in the strangest of places, every sighting like an Easter egg peeking through a sparse blade of grass. 

Coming back home for winter break is prime time for these sightings. When the plane had touched down on west coast soil, it wasn’t the palm trees that got him but the sight of the rolling hills in the distance, yellow grass bleeding into green that had made the lump rise in his throat. 

And now: sitting in the backseat of Donghyuck’s car with the windows rolled up and the audiotrack of zombie movie blasting through the radio and Donghyuck’s hand on his dick.

“Do you remember that time in high school when you stole Doyoung’s car and took us here?”

Donghyuck hums, fingers catching on the zipper. “Are you seriously trying to take a trip down memory lane while I give you a handjob? Also, I didn’t steal Doyoung’s car, I _borrowed_ it.”

On the drive-in theater’s projector screen, the protagonist bulldozes through a mob of zombies, but Renjun’s eyes are on Donghyuck, on the sheen of his lips as he looks up at Renjun, face lit in the faint glow from the screen.

“Pretty sure it’s the same thing when you don’t ask permission.”

“Tomato, tomahto,” Donghyuck mutters, before spitting into his palm. It’s gross, Donghyuck is gross, yet Renjun can’t find it in himself to mind as he bucks into the heat of Donghyuck’s palm.

Because here’s the thing: before Donghyuck is gross, he’s kind of hot. No, really hot, which is all kinds of unfair. Renjun hadn't seen him since the end of the summer, when Donghyuck had face planted on Chenle’s couch, an unopened bottle of Smirnoff Ice in his hand as he snored against the cushions.

Six months can do a lot for a person. Renjun can vouch for that first hand, what with the dark red mullet replacing his standard two block cut and the ghost of the tattoo needle on his rib. But even though he’d been keeping his Snapchat streak with Donghyuck all this time, there is something inherently different about seeing the boy you once kissed during a spin the bottle game when you were fifteen stepping out in golden hour light, six months of college hanging on his shoulders like a row of medallions.

Sure, Donghyuck’s hair is longer, and his baby fat had finally melted away, giving in to the sharp sweep of his jaw. But it was the confidence dripping from him that made all the difference, the intangible factor that drew lingering stares.

The wicked smile that Donghyuck flashes at him now, as he flicks his wrist and bends down to give the head of Renjun’s cock a tentative lick.

“Fuck,” Renjun hisses. With the heater on, the warmth of Donghyuck’s hand, his mouth, becomes unbearable, pleasure fizzing through his body like a shaken can of soda. He claps a hand over his mouth when Donghyuck’s fingers circle the base of his shaft, working up to meet Donghyuck’s lips before Donghyuck pulls off with an obscene pop.

“Glad I’m getting you to shut up, but the windows are up and I still wanna hear you moan,” Donghyuck murmurs, prying off Renjun’s hand in favor of his own lips. Renjun groans at the taste of himself on Donghyuck’s mouth.

“I didn’t know you were an exhibitionist.”

In front of them, the screen flashes and the radio crackles with the sound of an explosion. All Renjun sees is the illumination of Donghyuck’s eyes, the mirth and the want and the dynamite spark.

“It seems we have a lot of catching up to do,” Donghyuck shrugs, shifting himself towards Renjun. He’s practically in his lap now, jeans still on and straining through the fabric. Renjun delights in the sound he draws from Donghyuck’s lips when he palms him, the rough denim creating a delicious friction.

This outing had started innocently enough, with an authentic intention (at least on Renjun’s part) to meet up with Donghyuck and watch a hyped up blockbuster at one of their old haunts. Somewhere half through, though, they’d gotten lost in the plot, a sideway stare leading to a tentative kiss leading to Donghyuck panting against Renjun’s mouth to now, this.

There is nothing innocent about the way Donghyuck is currently backing Renjun up against the window and tugging up his sweatshirt, flattening his tongue against Renjun’s nipple.

“God, when did you get so sexy?” Donghyuck murmurs, hand tracing the lines of the petals lining Renjun’s rib.

“I was always sexy,” Renjun huffs, pressing his heel against Donghyuck’s erection. He smiles when he hears the hiss rise from Donghyuck’s throat and feels the eager grind of his hips that follows.

“Even in sophomore year when you had that perm?”

“Especially then,” Renjun says. “Certainly enough to get you to make out with me with a mouth full of braces.”

Donghyuck laughs, though the sound comes out raspy and desperate as he pushes against Renjun’s hand, chasing the friction. “That was so awkward, I can’t believe we did that.”

In truth, fifteen year old Renjun hadn’t either. It’d been a spontaneous thing, a spur of the moment decision to follow Donghyuck into the bathroom and learn how to slot their lips together. Something that passes like a fever dream, a fugue of the past, glossed over and laughed off. Something that still hung between them all these years, like a clothesline pulled too tight, an undercurrent of tension that ran through every sleepover, every ill-advised house party.

Something that stretches and stretches, until it snaps.

“Wanna just fuck me?” Donghyuck asks and it’s so easy to fall all the way in.

There is a science to car sex. The lack of space, the abundance of flailing limbs, the delicate matter of cum on leather seats. After some maneuvering, they end up with Donghyuck laid out on the seats on top of his jacket, his tight jeans balled up under the driver’s seat, and Renjun hovering above him, though bent low enough that he’s obscured from Donghyuck’s untinted windows.

They’re lucky Donghyuck had parked in the back row, sandwiched by cargo containers, but the thought that someone might see them still wrestles in his chest, some heady mix of horror and arousal.

“Well this is romantic,” Donghyuck says, wiggling down on Renjun’s fingers. He’d apparently come with a packet of lube, though clearly couldn’t have been bothered to reach for it earlier. 

“Do all your first dates go like this?” Renjun mutters, propping himself on one elbow as he rolls down the condom.

Donghyuck quirks an eyebrow, legs drawing around Renjun. “Who said this was a date?” He pauses, lips parting as if to say more, but they’re lost to the wind when Renjun pushes into him, his lips rounding into a perfect O.

If Renjun had thought he had any semblance of cool before, he loses it the moment he sinks into Donghyuck. Donghyuck is a fucking dream under him, wet and hot and tight, and Renjun think he might just lose his mind when Donghyuck rolls his hips against the rhythm of Renjun’s stroke. 

They’ve stopped talking, just the sound of the movie and their moans filling the car, and at this point, Renjun’s completely tuned out the sounds of gunfire and screams in exchange for the way Donghyuck pants his name by the shell of his ear, _Renjun Renjun Renjun_ sweetening the cacophony of the apocalypse.

The world could end right now and it wouldn’t matter. Not when Donghyuck is looking at him with half-lidded eyes, not when his hands feel like a furnace as they rove over Renjun’s back, and certainly not when he wraps his legs around Renjun’s waist and gasps out, “I think you can do better than this.”

On screen, the world explodes into flames, lit in ashes and comes to an end. Here, in the car, Renjun thinks he can feel that distant heat of the sun, blazing a dynamite path in his chest, as he grunts and picks up the pace, hips drilling into Donghyuck like there’s no tomorrow.

The windows are fogged up now, and if anyone was looking, they’d know by slight rock of the car, the palm shaped imprint streaked against the condensation of the glass. If they were near enough, they could make out the muffled moans, rising over the soundtrack, and the soft thump of Donghyuck’s head against the door.

But no one does. The movie plays on, the orchestra score crescendos, and Renjun loses himself in Donghyuck’s impossible heat. They keen against each other, Donghyuck reaching down to grip his own cock as Renjun fucks into him, harder and faster, until it all comes apart like a comet bursting through the atmosphere, splitting the earth, unravelling them to their core.

Renjun comes, and Donghyuck follows not long after, spilling against his thighs. 

And like nostalgia, the confession pops out in the strangest of places. 

“I missed you,” Renjun says when he’s handing Donghyuck the packet of wet tissues, reclining against the seat as the credits roll on the screen.

He doesn’t expect the soft kiss Donghyuck presses against his cheek, but it burns all the same, molten lava seeping through his chest. Balling up the tissue, Donghyuck tosses it to the floor and sidles up against Renjun, dropping his head on his shoulders.

“Me too.”

Renjun scrunches his nose, eyeing the precarious position of the wadded up tissue by Donghyuck’s jeans. “You’re really fucking gross, you know what?”

“But you still wanna take me out for a date anyways,” Donghyuck says and it’s like they’re fifteen again, knees knocking against the cabinets of Chenle’s bathroom, hands clutching in the front seats of Doyoung’s car.

Something that has endured, even after all this time and distance.

Renjun smiles, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I guess I do.”

**Author's Note:**

> tried to write porn and got sidetracked by the renhyuck soulmates agenda so now all i have to offer is pain


End file.
